


i don't wanna be you anymore

by pinkpunkmetal (orphan_account)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Character Death, Eating Disorders, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm, Vomit Mention, in this one logan dies y'all, patton starves himself in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pinkpunkmetal
Summary: Logan is dead, and Patton mourns his death.
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	i don't wanna be you anymore

**Author's Note:**

> (yes the title is a billie eilish reference, it just felt appropriate)
> 
> here's another semi vent one shot for y'all (i'm fine, this is how i work through stuff, the last time i posted i got worried comments lmao) 
> 
> this isn't definitely my best work, it's short and it doesn't really flow that smoothly but to me grief feels really weird and 'choppy' anyway so whatever, right?

The room was clean - maybe too clean - a simple desk where a laptop sat, closed, a queen sized bed in the middle of the wall opposite of it and a wardrobe tucked into the corner, the walls painted a lovely shade of pastel blue. It was Logan and Patton’s room. 

Patton, that now stood in front of his mirror, his - or better, Logan’s, even though Patton supposed the garment was his by now - black sweater hanging off his frame sloppily, barely held up by bony shoulders and thin arms, showing off the other two shirts he was wearing under it just to keep warm. 

“Not enough” Patton sighed, his voice barely audible over the painful ringing in his ears. 

He was never enough, and he never will be, to his own eyes, at least. 

The acid taste of puke raised at the back of his throat - he was disgusting. He was disgusting and nothing else and his mind screamed and shouted at him and he couldn’t make out anything of it, the words slurring together and melting into a static wave of pain taking over every part of his being - because it was all his fault - and he wished he could turn off everything and stop feeling for good, because he felt too much all the time and for once he almost wished he hadn’t loved Logan so deeply just not to feel like this anymore. 

His fists balled up together, his sharp nails digging into the skin of his palms with every little bit of strength he could muster and the already bruised and beat up skin split, blood trickling down to his fingertips, and tears welled up in his eyes - if from the pain or from something else, he didn’t know - and he wished he could have Logan back above anything else. 

It was all his fault. It was all his fault, because Logan was dead and it was all his fault. 

It was all his fault, because maybe if he had kept Logan in bed with him for just a couple of minutes longer the day he died he would’ve been still there with him - but no, he was all alone, the ghost of Logan’s existence haunting him. He was everywhere, he was in their house pacing back and forth while making a phone call, in their own room, in every corner and every crevice. He was working at his desk, he was laying in bed, he was still embedded under Patton’s own skin and no amount of scrubbing could take the feeling of Logan’s hands and lips away from it. 

He whimpered slightly, the tiniest breath escaping his cracked lips and his world stopped turning altogether, and he was out of his mind and back in his room, in front of his mirror, suddenly aware of the blood on his hands - that now was dripping on the floor, too.

He breathed in, and out, and in again deeply, searching for comfort in the repetitive action. 

“Not enough” He sighed again, and stepped away from the mirror. “Not good enough”

He cleaned himself up, and wiped the blood on his - his and Logan’s, really, but Logan wasn’t there and he hadn’t been for months now so was it his room anymore? Patton still thought it was. - bedroom floor haphazardly. 

He sat down on his bed, the dark sheets wrinkling under him and making Patton cringe - they weren’t perfectly smooth anymore, the room around him deathly quiet except for the sound of his own ragged breathing, and the pillows still smelled of Logan’s shampoo and his clothes still stayed neatly folded on the chair that was sitting in the corner, just like he had left them - and oh, how Patton made sure everything was the way Logan had left it. 

Logan had left forever. Logan had left forever, and Patton blamed himself for it and for every little act of self hatred it brought - he had killed the person he loved the most (in his mind, at least) so he has to be disgusting, doesn't he? 

He laid down, letting himself fall backwards onto what used to be his and Logan’s shared bed and let himself cry. 

He let himself cry over everything he had lost. He cried over Logan, he cried over all the friends he had lost in the months he had spent pushing everyone away - he was supposed to be the happy one. He wasn’t supposed to grieve and be sad and feel anything but happiness and he was supposed to be the one that always knew how to cheer people up and help them but how could he do that now when he couldn’t even help himself? 

He couldn’t even help himself, and grief swallowed what was left of his life whole.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a proper meal or the last time he took care of himself in any way. He couldn’t remember the last time pain didn’t wrap around every part of his being and he couldn’t remember what functioning was like anymore. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept properly - it probably was the last night he has spent in Logan’s arms - or the last time he baked a batch of his favorite cookies. 

He couldn’t remember a time when his belly felt full and he felt warm and save or a time when his eyes weren’t sunken in or that his skin wasn’t white and paper thin and painted in black and blue bruises he had put there himself. 

He couldn’t remember a time when his own skin didn’t feel like a trap and he didn’t want to rip himself out of it just to breathe and feel again and tear the stupid fuzzy feeling that clogged his every action.

“I deserve all of this” he said, his voice cracking and rough, his split lips hurting with every word. 

He almost couldn’t remember what Logan was like, his memories getting more and more blurry as time went on. His heart ached for him again - and the pillows still smelled of Logan’s shampoo - and his head screamed in pain again. 

Patton wished Logan was there. 

Patton wished Logan was there, because he would’ve known what to do to make him feel better - he always did - and they’d hug again and Patton would bake for him again and they’d kiss by the fireplace in their living room and everything would be alright and maybe Patton wouldn’t feel like a ghost anymore. He’d whip out some silly scientific fact - maybe even putting it in a pun - to make Patton laugh and he’s get teased by Patton for it and act fake annoyed just for Patton to kiss him. 

But Logan wasn’t there. 

So Patton wished. 

He wished.


End file.
